


Celebration

by makesometime



Series: A Wilde Week 2020 [3]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: (who's currently alive), A Wilde Week 2020 (Rusty Quill Gaming), Banter, Birthday, Birthday Cake, Birthday Party, Established Relationship, Everybody Lives, M/M, Old Married Couple, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27615839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime
Summary: It's almost Oscar's birthday, and Zolf has plans.
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Series: A Wilde Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016722
Comments: 22
Kudos: 52
Collections: A Wilde Week 2020





	Celebration

**Author's Note:**

> _Day 3 - "One should always eat muffins quite calmly. It is the only way to eat them.”_  
>  **Feast** | Hunger | **Treats**

“No!”

Oscar laughs, ducking out of the way of the wooden spoon flying at his head. “Zolf, please!”

“No! Get!”

He wants to fight, because it’s funny to rile his husband now that their life has so few consequences and Zolf is so much less quick to anger. But there’s a flush of self-conscious heat on the dwarf’s face that makes him think better of it, lifting his hands in surrender and backing out of the kitchen.

Once outside the door he smiles, leaning up against the wall. “Is there nothing I can do to help?”

“You can go away.” Zolf says forcefully. “And allow me to surprise you for once in your godsdamn life.”

“Yes indeed.” Oscar chuckles. “What on earth could you be doing in the kitchen two days before all of our closest friends arrive to celebrate my—.” He pauses for effect, injecting an exhaustive weariness into his voice. “— _fiftieth_ birthday?”

“Can you at least pretend?” Zolf throws back, but it’s distracted enough that Oscar knows he must have returned to his efforts already.

“No snide comments about how young I am?” Oscar asks. “You know how I adore those.”

He hears a snort, then the sound of far more eggs being cracked, one by one, than he would ever have considered necessary for a cake. How big is Zolf planning this to be, one wonders? Though for all those candles, a larger surface area is really an unavoidable requirement…

He’s well aware that he’s been dismissed already, and that Zolf will throw worse than a spoon at him if he lingers too much longer. 

But he can’t resist.

“Will you let me lick the spoon?”

Zolf grumbles, the sound of cake batter being beaten filling the kitchen. “I’ll give you something to lick alright.”

Oscar laughs, feels it come from right down in his belly, full and delighted as he wanders happily back to his office. 

“Promises, promises, love.” He calls as he goes, and enjoys the faint laughter he leaves behind.

Their friends arrive over the following days in fine spirits and with far too many gifts that he does his very best to pretend he’s not utterly thrilled by. There’s even one that Azu and Cel take him aside to talk about for a good ten minutes which results in him returning to the party with a lingering blush and a hundred different images floating through his mind’s eye.

The dinner that Zolf provides them on his birthday is astounding. Even with Zolf eventually capitulating and allowing everyone to pitch in as a sweet little bonding exercise, Oscar knows that the majority of the work was done by him and it means all the more as a result.

He’s in the middle of a particularly effusive conversation about magic with Hamid when all of the lights in the room go out, and he looks about in surprise, wine-soaked brain taking a second to catch up. Oscar spots Zolf in the doorway to the dining room with an armful of cake and a large grin, his footsteps calm and measured as he approaches the table, and everyone sings. For him.

Zolf’s really outdone himself with this one. It takes barely a moment for him to realise the cake is decorated in all of the colours of the waistcoat he wore when they first met, all those years ago in London. The patterning is exquisitely delicate and the candles... are the same garish yellow as his socks. 

Zolf settles the cake on the table in front of him with steady hands and steps back, Oscar looping an arm around his waist before he can go too far. 

“Oh Zolf.” He says, fighting the swelling of emotion that’s threatening to get caught as a lump in his throat. “This is beautiful. Thank you.”

“Make a wish, yeah?” He says. “Then we can set about destroying it.”

Oscar grins, blowing out the candles (there definitely aren’t fifty, but there’s enough) and sitting back, drinking in the drunken applause from their friends.

“It’s a good thing you’re so taciturn.” Oscar hums, quiet enough for only Zolf to hear. “No one would ever believe you’re such a softy. Can you bear to watch us cut up this beautiful creation?”

“Cakes are made to be eaten.” Zolf says, producing a knife from gods know where (Sasha would be proud). “Seeing your reaction is enough for me.”

Oscar smiles, taking the knife from Zolf’s grip. “I love you.” He says, brushing his lips over Zolf’s cheek.

Zolf’s flush is small enough not to be visible in the lingering low-light of the room. “Mm, love you too, Oscar.”


End file.
